


A Brief Reprieve

by BuddyWritesFic



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Lesbians, Royalty, Swords, sword lesbian/sword lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyWritesFic/pseuds/BuddyWritesFic
Summary: Someone requested 'sword lesbian/sword lesbian,' and I got inspired.Two old friends meet for a little swordplay on a cold day.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	A Brief Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyphomandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyphomandra/gifts).



Fencing was the best thing for a leg wound, old Baumbach the surgeon said. Kept it supple. Raised the spirits. Taking this advice, Anne Margaret met her friend Maria Angelica for a stroll and a fencing match on the cliffs above the inlet where the ivy grew.

Maria Angelica, princess of the Violet Kingdom, was a slight woman a little past twenty, with brown skin and dark, piercing eyes. Her woolen cloak and petticoats were dyed in her national colors, and her curls were perfumed with violet oil. She walked with effort now, like an old woman. She’d been knocked down off her horse in a battle, and a panicking beast (not her own, she always clarified, Buttercup was a good girl) had trod on her.

She wasn’t the only one worn down by the war. These days all the men and women of soldiers’ age were scratched and missing pieces. Anne Margaret herself had lost her right eye to a Sustrua archer. There was little Baumbach could do for a missing eye, but as he’d said, ‘At least you kept the brain, my prince.’ There was even less he could do for a missing brain.

Now the socket was healed and covered with a blue kerchief. Blue matched her coat and breeches, and her one remaining eye. She looked around. The gods had set a nice day for it; the cloudy sky shone silver, and the waves beat a winter song against the cliffs.

They raised their sabers. Anne Margaret bowed, Maria Angelica curtsied, and they began. Advance, retreat. Retreat, advance. It was an old dance with an old partner, with only a few new flourishes added to fit the modern style. Anne Margaret had to keep her head sharply turned now, to keep her eye on her opponent. It was a bit of a faff, because she still held her sword right-handed. But they adjusted to the new steps, and the peals of their ringing swords sang to the rhythm of the waves below.

“Message from the Capital this morning,” Anne Margaret said. “It’s official.”

Maria Angelica’s expression didn’t change. “I’d heard that, yes.”

Advance, retreat. Parry, riposte.

“They’re not bad terms,” Anne Margaret said, “all things considered. Overall, we got more than we lost.”

“Overall,” Maria Angelica repeated.

“All things considered,” said Anne Margaret.

“The situation being what it is.”

Their voices fell silent. Only their blades and footsteps spoke in the winter air between them.

“Still, it’s something, isn’t it?” said Anne Margaret. A cessation of hostilities was something. Whatever game the Great Prince was playing with the Sustrua, whatever he gave up and whatever invisible things he gained, the most recent chapter of the war was over. She was sure she could be happy about that. “Think it’ll last?”

Maria Angelica laughed. “The tide’s out,” she said. “Will _that_ last?” She shook her head. “War comes and goes, comes and goes. Soldiers catch their peace where they can. My cousins are getting married already.”

“That’s quite industrious of them,” Anne Margaret said.

“Industrious, yes. Laudable, even. But it’s five events for each wedding, and all in the same sixweek. Fifteen chalices to hold and shawls to wear and hymns to sing while my mothers sound the chimes.”

The ceremonial duties of a princess were more involved than those of a prince. Anne Margaret didn’t envy her that. “Your cousins could be more considerate,” she agreed. “It’s very tiresome.”

“Isn’t it? And me with a bad leg.” Maria Angelica did a little waltz-step to make a joke about it, but her knee froze up, and she tumbled to the ground. “Hell,” she said.

Anne Margaret sheathed her sword. She helped her up and offered brandy from a flask. Brandy was the next-best thing for leg wounds, after fencing. They walked together for a while, trading sips of the warming drink.

“When would you set a wedding?” Anne Margaret asked. “Not in the next sixweek, I assume.”

“No, certainly not,” Maria Angelica said. “It’s overpopulated already.” She looked out at the horizon. “I’d set it at midsummer. In the warmth and light, under blooming wisteria, when the birds are awake.”

Anne Margaret nodded. It was a pretty picture to think on. “A fellow should propose by equinox, then. To leave some time for the arrangements.”

Maria Angelica’s eyes widened briefly. A flicker of unguarded surprise showed on her face before she took up her detachment and covered herself in it again. “A fellow could propose by last frost,” she said, “and give my Aunt Agnetha time to make the sea voyage.”

“Of course, Aunt Agnetha,” Anne Margaret said.

They stood side by side together, overlooking the sea. The winter light was already fading. The snow began to fall.


End file.
